I started writing a book

Untitled Josh Felgoise Project #2

I’ve been incredibly inspired by the memoirs I’ve been reading (listening to) namely Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner and I’ll Have What She’s Having by Chelsea Handler.

I listened to the first chapter of Crying in H Mart back in November, paused, and just started writing what came to me. It felt like a flood of thoughts, I couldn’t type them out fast enough while walking back to my apartment on the notes app on my phone. I had so much to say and it felt like if I didn’t get it all down right there and then it was going to pass me by.

I started walking faster and faster, feverishly typing, and finally got back to my apartment where I could continue on my computer. This went on for the rest of that week. Nothing else felt as important. I couldn’t wait to get back to my computer and write. I spent any free moment I had at my computer typing whatever was coming to me. While I do love to write, I’ve never considered myself a writer. I’ve had ideas, sure, but never anything that went to paper. Ideas circled around in my head but nothing felt important enough to write. Nothing hit me over the head like this, until I realized I could write about my own life, my own experiences currently.

It felt cathartic and therapeutic but also necessary. I spent hours each night writing. I’d smile putting myself back into those moments and cry, really cry, about others. I’d never experienced anything like that before. It kind of felt like it took over me.

After those two weeks, my life resumed and those writing bouts stopped. Would they ever come back? Would what I just spent two weeks writing ever see the light of day? Would someone else ever read what I just wrote? I don’t know, still don’t.

Until a few days ago, when I started listening to Chelsea Handler’s newest memoir, I’ll Have What She’s Having. Like a bolt of lightning, I paused the book and started again. It didn’t feel like the same book but something new. I didn’t judge what came to me, just allowed it to.

I read Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert and she talked about how ideas and stories come through her, how she’s a vessel for them. They move through her onto the page. I thought that was a cool image but didn’t believe it. I do now.

My stories moved through me, weird to say, I agree.

So, I started writing a second book. It’s a little different but also a memoir with different stories that didn’t come to me last time. The stories that didn’t seem important enough last time felt more important now than ever. I haven’t written much, no more than 15 pages but I can see it, clearly.

Will either of these stories or “books” see the light of day? I don’t know. But it’s given me a new purpose. A new sense of self. An undiscovered passion and reason.

What I’ve learned in these last few months is to not be afraid of what comes to you, it may be coming to you for a reason. Don’t turn away from the ideas that come to you, you never know what they’ll become. Even if they’re just for you, that’s good enough. I’ve learned more about myself through this exercise than anything else I’ve ever done.

I’ll keep you updated, maybe one day you’ll get to read them!